We’re finally at the other side of a week without heating. It is true the winter has just started, with temperatures still above 0°C, albeit barely, but two pairs of fuzzy socks plus slippers were still not enough to convey any semblance of warmth during those five long days. And as disproportionate, overly dramatic or exaggerated as it may sound, the experience has changed me and my view of the world in more than one way; here’s the first.
On Saturday we had friends over for dinner, the evening still pleasant enough to keep the windows open throughout the evening. Then, the rain cleared and temperatures fell sharply. My daughter especially started complaining about feeling cold and although it appeared to be a bit chilly in our home, I put it down to our bodies still not being used to the fast approaching winter and my daughter’s complaining to her teenage era. By Tuesday, however, we realised something had gone wickedly wrong.
I, working from home, am the person who spends a lot of her time… well, at home. It was a busy week, full of tasks to complete and projects to develop, multiple rooms to declutter, promises to keep and expectations to meet. But as days went by and the chill turned into cold, then utter frost, my energy, focus and thus capacity to complete, develop, declutter, keep or meet decreased steadily. By Thursday, the coldest day of our heating-free ones, there was absolutely no chance of getting any work done, of focusing on anything, really. My day consisted mainly of roaming around the apartment, looking for the radiator that was at lest lukewarm as opposite to utterly cold. I tried to suck the warmth out of any source – the cooker, after having prepared a meal, or the tumble drier. I brewed loads of tea and tried to keep my double-socks-ed legs up, away from the cold floors.
Getting into the car was such a treat during those couple of days, especially the last, when our apartment was freezing. With toasty air blowing our of the vents, I made sure to drive around just that little bit more, to take the longer route home, or stay in the car a few moments longer than strictly necessary,, before getting out into the cold, then in. Into the cold again. My daughter said one morning, and I’m quoting, it was the first time she couldn’t wait to go to school because there, at least, it was nice and warm.
On Thursday afternoon, the handyman van finally parked in front of our window and by the evening we could hear water running through the radiators. For a minute they got hot, causing sighs of relief, screaming and a lot of jumping among my family members. Then, they went lukewarm again and panic settled in. My husband’s way of dealing with anxiety was to go from room to room, circulating around the apartment multiple times, touching each radiator as if his touch was magical and would cause the radiators to start working again. They did eventually, but the roaming and patting played no role in it, I am sure! Once heat was back, anxiety left way to trauma.
I’ve told you at the beginning you’d think it all disproportionate, even unreasonable!
Our response to the experience was visceral. For days we kept out heaters on full, a tropical climate slowly forming in our home. We did not dare to turn them down, probably because we needed to warm up, for the warmth to penetrate all the way to our bones. But probably also due to an irrational fear of the heath suddenly dissipating, disappearing again if we did.
We also thoroughly enjoyed the stifling warmth that makes it hard to breath. We bathed in it, submerged in its embrace, let ourselves be enveloped by the joy of not shivering. At home, as already mentioned, and in the car. When going to a shopping centre, I left my coat and scarf on, whereas normally they would both stay in the car. The torrid heat I felt for the next hour was utterly glorious!
The day after we got back to normal, I went wandering about, shop to shop, enjoying the Christmas spirit and the shopping crowds, I visited one of my favourite shops and without a prior plan, ended up in the changing room with mostly jumpers. Angora, cashmere, mohair and merino all sounded fabulous, they felt wonderful to the touch, their whispered promises of insulation, warmth, softness and resilience a balsam for my traumatised soul. Without any real need, I ended up buying two. Just in case, as a reserve, if need be. Because you never know. To lighten the anxiety I was feeling, I joked with the cashier, summarising my experience of the previous week in a sentence, concluding: ˝It’s a PSTD response.˝ and chuckled in an effort to lighten the mood, especially for myself. My instinct and irrational fear sparked by the memory of the previous few days, drew me to look further on for woolen socks, take a turn into a home-ware shop that carries bedding and investigate their blanket section, I nearly bough cashemre tights to wear under my jeans. But with a lot of self-restraint and rationalisation, I stopped at the two jumpers.
Through the experience I’ve learnt that in the absence of heat, your brain focuses on one thing only – how to get it, how to fulfill one of the only five basic physiological human needs. I was mostly on autopilot, without a will of my own, with one goal only. Thinking back now, the word primal seems very apt. Even after the discomfort was over, it’s consequences were clearly felt for days, even weeks; longer than the inconvenience itself actually lasted. So be kind to each other, especially this time of year. you never know what the other people are going through, what struggles lay heavy on their shoulders. Help where you can, be patient, let your reactions to annoyances be graceful and let love rule!